Searching for Dragons Page 10

  “Bah!” A deep, cross voice came carrying through the open window beside the door. “I don’t want any people. Tell them to go away.”

  The little girl obediently turned to Cimorene. “Go away, please,” she said, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  “No, thank you,” Cimorene responded. “We want to talk to your parents.”

  “Haven’t got any,” said the boy. He tilted his head to one side, as if considering, then took off for the house at a dead run. “Herman, they won’t go!” he shouted as he ran. “They want parents. They—”

  His shouting stopped as he dove headfirst through the open window and vanished inside. One of the upstairs windows scraped open, and two older children poked their heads out. At the same time, three small heads appeared at the corner of the house, gazing timidly at Mendanbar and Cimorene.

  Cimorene looked at Mendanbar and set her end of the carpet on the ground. Mendanbar put his end down, too, and stepped forward to stand beside her. The children stared at them without speaking.

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” the cross voice shouted. The front door of the house flew open and a dwarf stomped out. He was not much taller than the oldest of the children, but his long black beard and muscular arms showed plainly that he was no child. His hair looked like an upside-down black haystack. He glared angrily at Mendanbar.

  “I won’t do it!” the dwarf declared before either Mendanbar or Cimorene could say anything. “I don’t care if it’s family tradition, I don’t care if you need the money, I don’t care if her mother lied and now you have to convince your council, I don’t care if your mother is going to turn her into a toad tomorrow if she doesn’t perform. I WILL NOT DO IT AND THAT’S FINAL!”

  “That’s quite all right,” Cimorene said. “We don’t want you to. We just want—”

  “I know what you want,” the dwarf said, hopping furiously from one foot to the other. “You want a chance to talk me into it. Well, you won’t get one, missy. You should be ashamed to even consider such a thing!”

  “She isn’t considering it,” Mendanbar said. “We’re travelers, and we’ve just stopped to get some directions.”

  The dwarf paused in midhop. Balancing on one foot, he peered suspiciously at Mendanbar. One of the children giggled. The dwarf glared in the direction of the sound, then turned back to Mendanbar.

  “Directions? What sort of directions?” he asked with evident mistrust. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “I’m Princess Cimorene and this is King Mendanbar,” Cimorene said, “and we’re trying to get to the cave where the dragon Falgorn lives.”

  “Oh, you’re after a dramatic rescue,” the dwarf said with relief. “I suppose that’s all right. But are you sure you know what you’re getting into? Dragons are tough.”

  “No, no,” Cimorene said in the exasperated tone of someone who is very tired of correcting the same mistake over and over. “I’m Chief Cook and Librarian for Kazul, the King of the Dragons, and I’m very happy with my job, and I don’t want anyone to rescue me.”

  The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you looking for this other dragon?”

  “Because I have an urgent message for Kazul, and she’s gone to visit Falgorn,” Mendanbar explained.

  “Huh.” The dwarf hesitated, looking from Cimorene to Mendanbar. “How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick?”

  “Why should we want to trick you?” Cimorene asked.

  “To get me to spin straw into gold for you, you silly girl,” the dwarf said. “That’s why everyone comes to see me. And look at the thanks I get: children! Hundreds and hundreds of children! Bah!”

  The littlest children giggled and pulled their heads back behind the corner as the dwarf spun around. The blonde girl stared solemnly at him for a moment, then took her thumb out of her mouth, ran forward, and gave the dwarf an enormous hug.

  “Thank you, Herman,” she told the dumbfounded dwarf. She hugged him again and skipped off, apparently tired of listening.

  The dwarf smiled foolishly after her. The expression made him look pleasant and almost handsome. After a moment, the dwarf turned back to Cimorene, and his frown returned.

  “I don’t see the connection between children and spinning straw into gold,” Mendanbar said before the dwarf could start complaining again. “Would you be good enough to explain it to me?”

  “Explain?” the dwarf fumed. “That’s what the last girl said, and what happened? Twins, that’s what happened! And she claimed she couldn’t remember which one was first, so I ended up with both of them.”

  “I can see why that would be annoying,” Cimorene said noncommittally.

  The dwarf glared at her. “Yes, you say that now, but—oh, what’s the use? You’ll get it out of me one way or another.”

  “If you’d rather not tell us—,” Mendanbar started, but the dwarf cut him off with a despairing wave.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s my fate, that’s what it is. I should never have agreed to learn to spin straw into gold in the first place.”

  “Why did you?” Mendanbar asked.

  “It’s a family tradition,” the dwarf answered gloomily. “Of course it doesn’t work if you’re just spinning for yourself. So, a long time ago, my great-grandfather offered to use his talent to help out a girl who was in a sticky situation. If he hadn’t been such a do-gooder, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “What good did he do, exactly?” Mendanbar asked.

  “The local prince had gotten a notion that the girl could spin straw into gold,” the dwarf said. “Brainless young idiot, but they’re all like that. If she could spin straw into gold, why was she living in a hovel? Anyway, Gramps said he’d do her spinning for her in return for part of the gold and her firstborn child. She agreed, but naturally when the baby was born she didn’t want to give him up. So Gramps agreed to a guessing game: if she could guess his name, she could keep the baby. Then he let her find out what his name was. She kept the baby and Gramps kept the gold, and everyone went home happy.”

  “I think I’m beginning to get the idea,” Cimorene said. “It’s not just spinning straw into gold that’s a family tradition, is it? It’s the whole scheme.”

  The dwarf nodded sadly. “Right the first time. Only I can never make it work properly. I can find plenty of girls who’re supposed to spin straw into gold, and most of them suggest the guessing game, but I’ve never had even one who managed to guess my name.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Cimorene.

  “I even changed my name legally, so it would be easier,” the dwarf said sadly. “Herman isn’t a difficult name to remember, is it? But no, the silly chits can’t do it. So I end up with the baby as well as the gold, and babies eat and cry and need clothes, and the gold runs out, and I have to find another girl to spin gold for, and it happens all over again, and I end up with another baby. It isn’t fair!”

  “You, um, seem to be fond of the children, though,” Mendanbar said.

  The dwarf looked around to see whether any of the children were within hearing distance, then nodded sheepishly. “They’re good kids. It’s just that there are too many of them. I moved out here so it would be harder for the silly girls to find me and talk me into spinning for them, but they keep finding me anyway.”

  “It was a rather drastic move, wasn’t it?” Cimorene said. “What about the dragons and giants and rock snakes and so on?”

  “Oh, they’re no problem. The house used to belong to a magician, and he left a lot of guarding spells on it. Nothing nasty can get anywhere near.”

  “That’s why it feels magical,” Mendanbar said, relieved.

  “It’s an odd sort of house for a wizard,” Cimorene said, studying it. “Why so many windows?”

  “Not a wizard,” the dwarf said. “A magician. He was trying to find out which kinds of windows work best when they’re enchanted.”

  “Did he find out?”

  “I suppose so, or he wouldn’t have let me buy it. Most of the windows don’t work anym
ore, but there’s a round one at the end of the attic that still shows things once in a while.”

  “What kinds of things?” Mendanbar asked. “Can you ask to see something in particular, or does it just show scenes at random?”

  “You have to ask,” said the dwarf, “and you don’t always get an answer. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, please,” Cimorene said quickly.

  Mendanbar looked doubtfully at the carpet, wondering whether it would be safe to leave it where it was with all the children around, and thinking how much trouble it would be to haul along if they didn’t.

  “Let it be,” the dwarf said, following Mendanbar’s gaze. “The kids won’t touch it.”

  With some reluctance, Mendanbar nodded and followed the dwarf and Cimorene into the house. The inside was just as mazelike as Mendanbar had expected from the rambling exterior. The dwarf led them down a passage, around a corner, up a flight of creaky wooden stairs, through a room lined with pictures, up another flight of stairs, and down a long hall to a cramped, stuffy little room under the farthest slope of the roof. The only light came from a circular window about twice the size of Mendanbar’s head.

  “There it is,” said the dwarf. “If you want to see something, ask; but I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

  “Show me Kazul, the King of the Dragons,” Cim­orene commanded at once.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Mendanbar felt a tentative swelling of magic around the window. “I think it needs a boost,” he said and reached for his sword.

  “No, let me,” said Cimorene. She thought for a minute, then raised her right hand and pointed at the window.

  “Power of water, wind, and earth,

  Cast the spell to show its birth.

  Raise the fire to stop the harm

  By the power of this charm.”

  Power surged around the window, and the glass went milk-white. “What did you do?” Mendanbar said, impressed.

  “It’s a dragon spell,” Cimorene told him, keeping her eyes fixed on the window. “It’s easy to remember, and it’s not hard to adapt it to do just about anything. I found it in Kazul’s—look!”

  The window glass had cleared. Through the circular pane, Mendanbar could see the inside of a large cave. A sphere of golden light, like a giant glowing soap-bubble, covered half the cave, and inside the glow was a dragon. She was easily four times as tall as Mendanbar, even without counting her wings. Three short, stubby horns stuck out of her head, one on each side and one in the center of her forehead, and her scales were just starting to turn gray around the edges. An angry-looking trickle of smoke leaked out of her mouth as she breathed. In front of the bubble stood two tall, bearded men in long robes, carrying staffs of polished wood.

  “Wizards,” Cimorene said angrily. “I knew it!”

  10

  In Which Mendanbar Decides to Experiment

  MENDANBAR STARED AT THE WINDOW, angrier than he could remember being in a long time. In the back of his mind, he could hear a voice reminding him that the King of the Dragons was no concern of the King of the Enchanted Forest and that the Society of Wizards was a dangerous group to offend or interfere with. He could hear another voice that sounded very like Willin’s, suggesting envoys and formal complaints. But he was in no mood to pay attention to either of them. Mendanbar was not going to stand by and let the Society of Wizards kidnap and imprison anyone, King of the Dragons or not.

  “Huh,” said the dwarf. “So you weren’t kidding about looking for that dragon.”

  “Of course not,” Cimorene snapped. Her eyes were fixed on the window, and there was a little crease between her eyebrows. “But where are they? Window! Show me where they are.”

  Magic rose up around the window in a great wave, and Mendanbar felt an answering surge in his sword. The window turned bright green, glowing brighter and brighter, then suddenly shattered into dust.

  “Hey!” said the dwarf. “My window!”

  “Drat!” Cimorene’s hands clenched into fists, and she glared at the empty space where the window had been. After a moment, she shook her head and turned to the dwarf. “I’m sorry, Herman. I didn’t know it would do that. And we don’t really know any more than we did before.”

  “Oh, yes, we do,” Mendanbar said. “We know that some wizards have captured Kazul, and we know that they’re somewhere in the Enchanted Forest.”

  “We do?”

  “I’m sure of it. I think that’s why the window couldn’t show a more general picture of where they were. Things in the Enchanted Forest move around a lot, especially if the forest doesn’t like something. I’ll bet my best crown that that”—Mendanbar waved at the empty window frame—“is something the Enchanted Forest doesn’t like one bit.”

  “All right, but that doesn’t help much,” Cimorene said. “The Enchanted Forest is a big place. How are we going to find them?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Mendanbar said. “I’m the King of the Enchanted Forest, remember?”

  “That makes you good at finding missing dragons?”

  “It makes me good at finding out what’s going on,” Mendanbar said. “I can tell when places are moving around, and I can get where I want to go even when it’s moving. I don’t think it will be too hard, once we get back inside the forest.”

  “Then let’s go,” Cimorene said. “I didn’t like the look of that bubble thing those wizards had around Kazul.”

  “At least they don’t seem to have hurt her,” Mendanbar offered.

  “That’s true. Oh, I wish I knew what they were up to!” Cimorene scowled at the broken window, then turned sharply away, almost running into the dwarf.

  “I don’t understand this at all,” the dwarf said, looking from Cimorene to Mendanbar with a puzzled frown.

  “I’m sorry we don’t have time to explain,” Mendanbar said. “But I’m afraid we don’t.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” Cimorene added.

  The dwarf shook his head and led them back to the front door, frowning in such deep concentration the whole time that neither Mendanbar nor Cimorene could bring themselves to interrupt. In the doorway, the dwarf paused.

  “Are you sure you don’t want any gold?” he asked.

  “Quite sure,” Mendanbar said. “We have a long walk ahead of us, and gold is awfully heavy.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to spin gold anymore,” Cimorene added.

  The dwarf looked down. “It’s not the spinning, it’s the rest of it,” he said, not very clearly. “And spinning’s the only way I know to make money, and you wouldn’t believe how fast kids grow.”

  “Oh,” said Cimorene. She bit her lip. “What if we asked you to spin some gold for us and then let you keep it?” she asked without much hope.

  “No,” said the dwarf. “I tried it once. It just doesn’t work.”

  “Can you spin for the children?” Mendanbar asked.

  The dwarf shook his head. “They’re my responsibility, so it’s the same as spinning for myself as far as the spell is concerned.”

  “What are you going to do with them all?” Cimorene asked as renewed shrieks and the sound of pounding feet came through the open door.

  “Oh, most of them will grow up and save their kingdoms from something or other in the nick of time,” the dwarf said. “Long-lost heirs, you know. That’s what makes it so difficult. I have to see that they’re properly trained on top of everything else.”

  “Training,” Mendanbar said under his breath. He squinted into the sunlight, trying to catch hold of an idea that hovered just out of reach.

  “I don’t suppose their parents . . .” Cimorene’s voice trailed off as the dwarf shook his head.

  “A bargain’s a bargain. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same without them running all over. I can’t give them back.”

  “Of course not,” Mendanbar said, blinking. He smiled suddenly. “But you can charge for training them, can’t you?”

  An answering smile lit up Cim
orene’s face. “A boarding school for long-lost heirs. What a good idea!”

  “A school?” the dwarf said as if the words tasted funny. “A boarding school? I don’t know—”

  “Why not?” Cimorene said. “It would solve your money problems for sure. Special schools are always horribly expensive. You could charge the parents of your children for just the training part, and take on a few more kids at training plus full room and board.”

  The dwarf’s eyes gleamed at the idea, but then his face fell. “What about my spinning?” he said. “It is a family tradition.”

  Cimorene rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you done enough of that already?”

  “Well—”

  “I have an idea about that, too,” Mendanbar put in. “The problem with the spell is that you can’t spin for yourself or for anyone who’s your responsibility, right?”

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” the dwarf said. “And there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “What if you set up a scholarship fund?” Mendanbar said. “I’ll bet a really good lawyer could design one that would get around the spell’s restrictions so you could spin for it.”

  Cimorene nodded. “A good lawyer can get around just about anything. And if that doesn’t work, you could spin for other scholarship funds and only take part of the gold, the way you usually do.”

  “I never thought of spinning for a fund,” the dwarf said in wonder.

  “You think about it, then,” Mendanbar said. “We have to go.”

  “Yes,” said Cimorene. “I won’t feel quite comfortable until I know Kazul is out of that bubble. Thank you again.”

  They left the dwarf in the doorway, muttering to himself about rooms and expenses, and walked over to the rolled-up carpet.

  Mendanbar looked at it with distaste, remembering their wild ride. He hoped Cimorene wasn’t going to insist on using it right away. His stomach hadn’t completely settled from the last time. He turned his head. Cimorene was looking at him with a wary expression.

  “Let’s carry it for a while,” she suggested. “The children are probably watching, and we shouldn’t give them ideas.”